


Make a Ray of Sunshine (And Never Leave Home)

by bloodofpyke



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-18 07:28:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodofpyke/pseuds/bloodofpyke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>They were silent for a moment, and Zayn tried not to notice the way they fit together until the lines blurred and unfocused, or the way it felt like his heart was stuttering against the brush of Niall’s arm.</i>
</p>
<p>Meant to be the five times Zayn and Niall shared a bed and accidentally turned into the five times they shared any surface at all, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make a Ray of Sunshine (And Never Leave Home)

**One**

He was in his bunk, rolling a cigarette lazily between his fingers, a half-finished book open next to him, some stupid Nick Hornby thing about babies and Tony Hawk; he’d picked it up a week ago because he reckoned his mind was going soft and, well, anything was better than nothing. He was sort of considering getting up and going for a smoke, but it was  _quiet_  in the room for once--Liam had disappeared ages ago, vaguely saying something about going for a run (he was wearing jeans and that plaid shirt he’d nicked off Harry a week ago, and Zayn almost wanted to tell Liam to say hi to her for him, but he didn’t, only watched him go with a sort of smile), and Harry and Louis had run off yelling about water balloons and brand new trainers and Zayn hadn’t really tried to puzzle out what they were on about--and getting up for a smoke meant getting out of bed, meant pulling his jeans back on, and he was too comfortable to bother.

He was still kind of mulling it over in his head though, humming a few bars of this song he’d had stuck in his head the past few days, when Niall stuck his head over the guardrail. “Didn’t think anyone else was in here,” he said, and Zayn almost wondered if Niall was trying to sneak in some quiet too, except--except that didn’t seem like Niall.

“Was wondering where you were,” he answered, sticking the cigarette behind his ear. “Were you sleeping? I can, like, clear out or something.” 

“Nah, don’t bother,” Niall said. A beat, and then, “I--I can’t really sleep.” The words sounded off, like Niall was just trying them on for size and they didn’t quite stretch over his elbows. 

A part of Zayn wanted to ask if he was homesick, or just not used to sharing a room with four other boys, but he wasn’t sure there was a neat answer, so he just shifted, patted the bit of bed next to him. “Can’t sleep either,” he said, because it was the truth, because he was half wondering if he’d be able to sleep soundly with Niall next to him. 

Niall clambered up onto the bed, curling up under Zayn’s arm--he was  _tiny_ , and Zayn wasn’t really sure he’d ever noticed before--and he picked up Zayn’s book. “Read some of this before,” he said lazily. “Bit crap, the one about football was better.”

They were silent for a moment, and Zayn tried not to notice the way they fit together until the lines blurred and unfocused, or the way it felt like his heart was stuttering against the brush of Niall’s arm. “What were you humming earlier?” Niall asked, his breath dancing along Zayn’s collarbone and he tacked that onto the list of things he wasn’t trying to notice. 

“Some song. It’s been stuck inside my head and I thought, y’know, that humming it would get it out of my head. Hasn’t though.”

“Sing me a bit,” Niall said, and Zayn almost refused, almost laughed, really, but it was just the two of them and he could feel Niall’s heart beating, and it didn’t feel as ridiculous, when Niall asked. “Might help,” he went on, shrugging a bit.

“It’s hard to say what you mean to me,” Zayn started, and his voice was low, a bit rough around the edges, but it suited the song, and Niall moved closer, his hair catching under Zayn’s sleeve. “Everyone is scenery, so you take a late night drive home, trying to get home.”

“S’good,” Niall mumbled. “Gonna give Haz a run for his money.” And then Zayn was laughing, ducking his head, and his heart was jumping a bit in his chest, and he added that, too, to his list. “Keep going,” and it was quieter this time, the words folded along the seam of Zayn’s tshirt.

He fell asleep in the end, his hair all pushed down against Zayn’s shirt (he was smiling too, a bit, pressed against Zayn’s arm, and he wondered how much longer this list could get). And Zayn, curled around Niall, his voice fading so that it was barely even there, fell asleep too, slipping into it like it was the easiest thing until Harry and Louis burst into the room, shouting and shaking them awake.

“Zayn!  _Zayn!_  Get up, we’ve got  _things_  to tell you!” Louis was yelling, and blearily, Zayn registered that Louis was now wearing Harry’s jumper, his Man U tshirt peeking out at the collar. 

“That Ni next to you there?” Harry asked from the other side of the room. “Get him up too, will you, Lou?”

“Not your servant, Curly.”

“No,” Harry started, “ _but-”_

“I’m up, I’m up,” Niall muttered, face turned into Zayn’s chest. “What’re these things you lot keep yelling about?”

_“Girls!”_  Louis said, standing on tip toes and trying to throw an arm around Niall’s shoulder and mainly just hitting Zayn’s jaw.

“Right down the hall!” Harry added. “Few doors down, even!” 

“You twats,” Niall said, starting to sit up, “woke up me up for  _girls?_  Have you been locked in a tower or something?”

“Something like that,” Harry said, winking at Louis and grinning.

“Course, we’ve got a competition to focus on lads,” Louis said, “can’t be muddling our heads up with girls and ruining our shot at fame, or even--hey, wait a tick, where’s Li? He usually shoots up like a weed when someone else tries to give a lecture.” 

“Went for a run,” Zayn muttered, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes.

“Ah,” Louis said, catching on. “Right. Well, then, let’s get a move on before he gets back, eh? Save the lecture for later. Ni, you grab a shirt, and Zayn, pull some trousers on. Actually, no, wait, might work better if you go as you are. Get up and meet us in the hall, yeah?” 

They were gone before Zayn even had time to answer, Louis tugging off Harry’s beanie and laughing, Harry trying to snap a crumpled tshirt at Louis’ legs, and Zayn turned to Niall as the door clicked shut. “So,” he said, running a hand through his hair, the cigarette he’d forgotten he had falling into his lap. “Girls, eh? What d’you reckon?” 

“Dunno. Worth a look, I s’ppose, otherwise those two might never shut up.” 

“Yeah,” Zayn said. “Don’t feel like putting jeans back on though.” 

“You look better without them anyway,” Niall told him, raising an eyebrow and flashing that too-bright smile at him before jumping off the bed and scrounging around for his shirt.

“What would I be without you, Horan?” Zayn said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, wondering if this is how all new friendships felt, bright and shining and comfortable; wondering if it would always feel like this (and he thought it would, thought there was something about Niall that he would never get used too, all bright smiles and loud laughter and murmured breathing).

“Some sad jeans-wearing sap, probably,” Niall said, laughing and shrugging his shirt on, tossing Zayn his jeans.

“Shut it, you,” Zayn said, lifting his hips and sliding his jeans back on, but he was grinning, almost as brightly as Niall, so Niall only laughed again and chucked a ball at him, and something about this felt a bit like a victory.

**Two**

The room was stifling, and he wondered if this was what hell was, a hotel room room in middle America where it was too hot to even breathe when he heard the door open. “Go ‘way,” he muttered, too sluggish to even lift his head. “Too hot.”

He shut his eyes then, trying to will whoever it was away--and he was pretty sure it was Louis, he’d texted him earlier about digging those plastic swords out of the bus and having a rematch while Paul was off at dinner--and groaning when he felt the bed dip. “Not having a sword fight, Lou,” he said, reaching up and wiping his forehead. “Go bother Haz.”

“Not Lou,” the person said, and Zayn turned over, found Niall reaching over to the bedside table. “Brought you an ice cream, too,” he said, holding it just out of Zayn’s reach. 

“Ni, what are you doing?” he asked, rolling closer to try and grab the ice cream. “It’s  _hot.”_

“I know,” Niall said, laughing a bit, sitting up and tossing the ice cream onto the bed. “Your hair’s even wilting a bit, mate.”

He shoved him a bit then, shoulders crashing into each other, but it was soft because it was too hot and he had ice cream and he couldn’t really bring himself to care. “Thanks,” he said around a mouthful, his knee knocking into Niall’s. “You didn’t have to.”

“Didn’t want you to vanish in a puddle of sweat, y’know? We’d be bloody lost during the shows, and then Simon would cut off all our heads or, like, be really  _disappointed_  in us.” A thud, while Niall toed off his sneakers and leaned back against the headboard. “Was saving myself, really, so it’s nothing.”

“Want some?” Zayn offered, tilting his head to look up at Niall, waving the spoon around.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Niall said, leaning into Zayn and taking the spoon and it was too hot, that feeling of Niall’s hand against his, and he almost wanted to shake it off but it was nice too, bit like sitting out under the sun with a book.

“Sleep in here tonight?” Zayn asked after a moment, and it was half a question like he was skittering around it just in case.

“Course,” Niall answered, grabbing the pint from Zayn and digging the spoon in. “You’re the one with the ice cream, after all.” 

“It’ll be gone soon, though,” Zayn groaned, “and then it’ll be even  _hotter.”_

“Y’know, the fans would never believe it.”

“Believe what?” he had to ask, because sometimes Niall was like that when it was just them, caught up in whatever he was thinking and skipping way across the finish line.

“That you’re such a baby. Hey, maybe we can tell them and then I can be the bad boy for once.” 

“No one’d believe that, sorry, Ni.” 

“They might!” Niall protested, passing the ice cream back to Zayn. “I can do tough! Dunno for how long though, maybe just when there’re cameras.”

“That’s all the time!” 

“Yeah,” Niall said. “No cameras here though.” 

“Not unless Lou’s snuck in that one from his spy kit.” 

“He hasn’t, I saw him sticking it onto Liam’s laptop earlier.”

“Hope he never finds it, I kind of want to see what Li gets up to on his own,” Zayn said, thinking of that one livestream where Liam just played music and ate chocolate chip cookies, wondering if that’s what he was like all the time, all puppy dog eyes and Disney animation. 

“Boring stuff, probably,” Niall yawned, dropping his head onto Zayn’s shoulder, and it burned a bit, but he didn’t mind anymore; he was getting more used to it, he thought, Niall’s heat.

“Lights off?” he asked.

“Might make it cooler.” 

They were quiet for a moment, breaths quiet, bodies still, like they were waiting to see how much cooler the room would get. “Hey Ni,” Zayn started, breaking the silence. “Thanks, y’know.”

“Course,” Niall mumbled, shifting and fitting his body against Zayn’s. “Not as hot anymore,” he said into the pillow.

“Yeah, s’nice now, almost.” 

“Night, baby.”

“Night, bad boy.” 

**Three**

They were almost done with the tour, home sliding slowing into view, when Niall got sick. It was something nasty too; Paul had to drag him to a doctor, and he was stumbling and the palest Zayn had ever seen him when they came back, Paul holding what looked like the entirety of a pharmacy.  _“Rest,”_  he said, clapping a hand to Niall’s shoulder. “No running about tonight, I mean it.” This last bit said in a raised voice, while Paul glanced over Niall’s shoulder to Louis and Harry, heads bent together over a map of the city in the corner.

He felt a bit off-center, watching Niall trip back to his room, like he was missing something, a limb or a vital organ or  _something_ , he just couldn’t see it, but he was going to fall over all the same.

Liam tried to drag him to see some movie, something with a crap soundtrack and a storyline he couldn’t quite follow, but he ducked out not even halfway through, following the back way they’d taken out of the hotel. He was standing outside Niall’s door before he’d even realized where he was heading, already reaching into his pocket for the key, wondering if maybe he should just let him rest. But that feeling was back, that unbalanced, dizzy feeling, and he was telling himself he’d just look in, peek in to make sure he was alright, and then leave before Niall even woke up.

He wasn’t even two steps into the room before he heard the sheets rustling, Niall croaking out an “hello? who’s there?” 

“It’s me,” he said softly, walking in and leaning against the wall. “How’re you feeling?” 

“Shitty,” Niall muttered. “Wanna go home.” 

“Almost done with the tour,” Zayn said, shifting his weight and toying with the zipper on his hoodie. “D’you need anything?” he asked, turning towards the door. “Or d’you wanna sleep?” 

“Don’t want you to go,” Niall said, looking up at Zayn and clutching at the covers. “Want you to stay.” 

“Course,” Zayn muttered, pulling off his sweatshirt and kicking his boots into the corner.

“S’nice,” Niall said, pushing against Zayn. “Don’t like being sick.”

“Not that bad, you get to sleep and Paul’ll bring you soup and tea and let you rent movies.” 

“It’s boring without you, though,” he said, tucking his head under Zayn’s arm, and sighing a bit. “How was the movie? Haz stopped by earlier with a chocolate bar, said you lot were on your way out,” he said, answering the question before Zayn could ask.

“Bit shit, I think. Wasn’t really paying attention though,” he told him. “Too busy worrying about you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Niall didn’t respond, only dragged a hand down Zayn’s chest, stopping at his heart. He held his breath then, wondering if Niall could feel the kicks and starts with his fingertips, if he knew that just being here made him feel more balanced. “Love you,” Niall said finally, nestling closer. “Feeling better already.”

“Good, was getting sick worrying about you.” A beat, then, “love you too, Ni.”

**Four**

Niall was sitting on his couch when Zayn got home, flicking through the channels and getting crumbs everywhere. “Just make yourself at home, yeah?” Zayn said, waving a hand towards Niall. 

“Was planning to, thanks,” he said, pausing on an old  _Scrubs_  episode. “Cable at my place is broken,” he explained a moment later, turning to face Zayn, an arm thrown over the back of the couch. “Lou and Haz are out, and Liam tried to make me watch some documentary thing about Africa or camels or something. There was a desert, I think, and he kept shoving fruit at me. Told him I had a headache and came here.”

“He’s gonna kill you if he finds out you were lying,” Zayn said.

“Or he’ll just make me watch another documentary.”

“Show up at your door with a fruit plate.”

“Exactly, had to escape,” Niall told him triumphantly. “Hey-want to watch a movie or something? That alien movie is on.”

_“War of the Worlds?”_

“Nah,  _Attack the Block_. I think we saw a bit of it at that hotel in Florida? The aliens with the glow-y teeth?” 

“Oh yeah, right,” Zayn said vaguely, sort of remembering watching a movie then but sort of not, since he was pretty sure that night was when Harry snuck in a bunch of beers and Louis tried to start a dance-off in Liam’s room. “Turn it up, yeah?” he asked, dropping his bag and falling back onto the couch next to Niall, his legs thrown over the armrest and his back pressed to Niall’s side.

The movie was almost done--and he was almost positive they hadn’t watched it before, whatever Niall said, because he was sure he’d remember this soundtrack--and Sam was standing in Moses’ flat when Niall shifted, tugging Zayn closer. “Miss home,” he said, and Zayn tipped his head back, watched Niall’s eyes narrow at the screen.

“You are home though,” he pointed out. “Tour doesn’t even start for a couple of weeks.”

“No,  _home_  home,” he said. “Been ages since I was there.”

“Yeah,” Zayn said, trying to imagine how he would feel it his mum was that far away, wondering how Niall kept it together. “We could go, you know.”

“Who, me and you?” 

“Yeah, after the tour, maybe?” 

“I’d like that,” Niall mumbled, his hand falling onto Zayn’s hip. “Could show you all over Ireland,” he said, “you’d like it, I think.”

“Think I would,” Zayn said softly, smiling a bit and closing his eyes against Niall’s touch.

They were still tangled together on the couch, some crap movie playing in the background, when Liam let himself in a few hours later. “Haz is cooking dinner,” he said, switching a light on and coming over to sit on the armrest by Niall. “Wants us all to come over, he’s got some movie in he won’t stop talking about.”

“Now?” Niall asked, nudging Zayn awake.

“Yeah, said I’d stop by and grab you two. Figured you were here,” he said, grinning a bit at the look Niall threw him. “And, hey, brought that apple you forgot to take with you.”

Niall reached over and swiped at Liam, dodging the apple when Liam tossed it at him. “Oi!” Zayn said, sitting up and rubbing at his head where the apple had landed. “Keep me out of your weirdo fights!”

“You know Zayn,” Liam said thoughtfully, “you’re looking a bit peaky, too, want me to go grab you an orange?”

“Hate you.”

“Love you too, Malik. C’mon though, you know how Harry gets when we’re late to family dinners.”

“Yeah, don’t want him to tear out all his lovely curls,” Niall said, standing up and grabbing Liam’s baseball hat, shoving it onto his head. He held his hand out to Zayn then, pulling him to his feet and ducking when Zayn tried to grab Liam’s baseball hat from him. “Oi, watch it, it’s mine now!” 

“It’s mine!” Liam cried. “You can keep it though, brings out you eyes.” 

“Thanks, babe,” Niall said, winking and opening the door. “Can’t wait for Ireland,” he said to Zayn as they walked down the hallway, “we’ll be able to sleep in peace, yeah?” 

“What’re you two whispering about back there?” Liam called, waiting by the corner.

“Heaven,” Niall answered, grinning at Zayn and running ahead to catch up with Liam. Zayn paused a moment and grinned down at the floor, so brightly he thought his cheeks might crack, before jogging after Liam and Niall.

**Five**

Louis had just made them all sit down and watch some horror movie with him--something with zombies and too much blood and not enough funny bits--saying that they needed to be there for each other all the time, and when was a better time for that than a scary movie when Niall poked his head into Zayn’s room. “You awake?” he asked, shuffling into the room.

“Couldn’t sleep after that.”

“Hate Lou for making me watch that,” Niall said. “Gonna have nightmares for weeks, now.” 

“Wanna sleep in here? We can protect each other.”

“Don’t need protecting,” Niall sniffed, but climbing into the bed all the same.

“So if a zombie were in the bathroom right now?” Zayn asked, propping himself up on an elbow, swallowing a grin.

“I’d bash his brains in and whisk you to safety.” 

“Unless I beat you to it.” 

“Unless you beat me to it.”

“Or if we ordered room service and when we opened the door, there was, like, an army of zombies crawling around in the hallway?” 

“I’d slam the door and we’d leave through the fire escape.” 

“Okay, okay,” Zayn said, trying to rack his brains for something else. “What about...what about if we get to the arena tomorrow night, right, and we’re on stage and the entire audience is zombies?” 

“I’d piss my pants and fall down,” Niall said, smacking Zayn’s shoulder. “But I could take a handful of zombies!”

“But not an arena full of them?”

“No way, our fans are intense enough as it is, don’t think I could handle them all zombie-fied.” 

“Don’t think anyone could, really.”

“Liam, maybe,” Niall mused. “I could see him being, like, king of the zombie warriors.” 

“Yeah,” Zayn laughed, “he could wear a cowboy hat like Woody and sing Disney songs while he ran around, saving everyone.”

“I don’t need saving though.”

“No, right, he’d save everyone but you.”

“And you.”

“Dunno, would rather trust my life to Liam than myself with zombies around.” 

“I’d save you,” Niall told him, rolling onto his back and looking at Zayn. “Remember, whisk you to safety on the fire escape?”

“Oh, right, forgot about that. I’d feel safe, with you as my protector.” 

“That’s cause I’m tough,” Niall said, making a muscle and laughing when Zayn reached over and poked his arm.

“My fucking hero,” Zayn told him, reaching over to turn out the lights.

“Here to help,” Niall said, snuggling down under the covers and fitting himself against Zayn’s chest.


End file.
